Chill of the Fall
by Singe
Summary: They know better than to try and define their relationship. Because in the end, they are both frail and broken, but still so damned stubborn. AU.


**Author's Notes**: The things I come up with while "studying" for a midterm and "translating" Latin, respectively. Oh well, enjoy me finally admitting that I have a weakness for Parental!Kakashi—well, if I'm being honest, Kakashi in general—in this AU that my brain has been assaulting me with, even before the last couple of manga chapters came out.

…I blame it on all the cold medicine I've been basically living off of over the last month.

…And I apologize for the utter lack of Hebi/Taka love in this fic. But don't worry, there's more on the way from me in that particular part of the Naruto fandom…some of which that actually came to me while I was writing this, though it has absolutely nothing to do with the topics here.

P.S. I think I might fail at writing Naruto as much as I do at writing Serious!Karin. Oh well, such is life. Please review anyway.

**Disclaimer**: As always, I don't own anything related to the massive Naruto franchise, besides the typical posters and what not. Well, I do have a pretty BAMF Gaara and Lee Gashapon figure that has hints of Kimimaro and Sasuke too, but that's beside the point…

Title: Chill of the Fall  
Rating: T  
Author: Singe

O0O0O0O

Sasuke is too thin. It's a thought he has had a thousand times before and a situation he had tried to remedy innumerable times by adding food to the boy's dinner and breakfast plates when the other wasn't paying attention. But somehow, the pale teen remained far too skinny for Kakashi to pretend he was healthy. Yes, the boy was athletic. Yes, he had a busy lifestyle; balancing school, sports, and the people he still wouldn't admit were his friends. But somehow, he couldn't help but think that his charge was still too thin, too small, too fragile.

Sasuke has far too many scars for someone his age. They are things most people wouldn't notice, as they blend so well into that pale skin, but Kakashi knows what to look for, what they looked like when the wounds were fresh. There are the nearly invisible—even to him—signs of schoolyard scuffles and sports injuries. There are the jagged, thin lines caused by the broken glass of a car crash that had nearly killed them both, slight raised ridges in the smooth skin so entirely unlike the scar that he wore on his own face as a reminder.

And as Sasuke is wheeled out of their small rented house on a stretcher, surrounded by paramedics, as Kakashi is surrounded by police asking questions, he has no choice but to think about the teen's other wounds, the ones that neither of them have ever been able to talk about. He idly wonders, disconnected from the flashing lights and sirens surrounding him, how that sick bastard had been able to find them this time.

He really shouldn't be surprised, Kakashi thinks as he watches the ambulance Sasuke has been loaded into speed away. Because they had moved before, had changed names and places and lives before ending up here in Konoha. And they had been found before: sometimes within days, others in a matter of months. And almost every other time, there had been some sort of a warning, something that let them know to be ready for anything, to begin packing and to start leaving.

But they had always been found.

And that bastard would always come back for Sasuke, or at lease, for as long as he managed to survive.

Because to that man, this was just a game.

There was a rough patch of skin on the teen's lower back and a wicked looking scar curling around the calf of his left leg as a reminder of the last time they had been caught unprepared. And there was a circular wound the size of a bullet near his right shoulder as testament to the time before that. They had been found before, so why had they believed this time would be any different?

But Konoha had seemed safe. There had been no signs, no warnings that anything was wrong. They had been here for nearly a year now—the longest the two had remained in one place since Kakashi had become Sasuke's legal guardian—and their lives had finally settled into some modicum of normalcy. He had gotten a desk job at a local corporation that allowed him frequent naps and Icha Icha breaks throughout the day, while Sasuke had enrolled in the local high school as he always did: using a fake name.

After the first three months in which nothing happened, they had become complacent, had actually begun to make friends, to establish something resembling normal lives, regardless if their new acquaintances were unaware of their real names or pasts. By now, Sasuke had a group of friends that he would disavow at every turn should his guardian begin asking—aka teasing Sasuke—about them, and Kakashi himself had found a group of drinking buddies with whom he could bemoan the joys of raising a bratty teenager.

He should have fucking known that it wouldn't last.

Tonight had been like any other: he'd come home from work, expecting to find his adopted son sprawled out on the couch—a description that the teen would surely object to. Uchiha's did not _sprawl_, it was both disgraceful and undignified—and he would drape his tie over some random piece of furniture—such as the television directly across from the couch on which the teen rested, so the boy couldn't help but notice—and then he would be scolded by Sasuke to put it away properly until one of them would eventually bother to make dinner, the tie still in place on whatever furniture or appliance it had been dropped on. And then as they ate, the two would exchange teasing jabs and biting retorts respectively, until both deemed they knew enough about the other's day to be satisfied. Sasuke would then disappear into his room to do homework or brood or whatever else emotionally handicapped teenagers did with their free time and Kakashi would read more Icha Icha or watch television or check with the people who helped them get from town to town unnoticed to make sure they would be okay for another night.

But now, with how he had found Sasuke, he wasn't sure if okay would ever be a term he could use to describe the too pale, too skinny, too scarred boy again.

He had known something was off the minute he had pulled into the driveway. It was hard not to, what with the blond teenager knocking loudly on his front door and screaming at the top of his lungs something about how Sasuke—only the blond had used the other's current alias—had forgotten something in the locker room after practice and if he ever wanted to see it again he had better open the door, because damnit, he knew his highness was home since the lights were fucking _on_, and _seriously_, he wasn't joking, he would just keep it or sell it to the fangirls or something else equally as horrible, because—

"…What are you doing?" Kakashi had found himself asking, despite that it was fairly obvious his charge was avoiding one of his pseudo-friends, and the blond boy was too stubborn or too stupid to get the message.

In either case, the teen jumped and spun around, apparently having not heard the car being parked on the street or Kakashi approaching the front steps.

"Um, I…" the kid looked confused for a moment as he watched the still form of the older man, and then seemed to regain his confidence, "What's it to you?"

"Well, seeing as how it's my front door you're abusing, and my son you were attempting to blackmail, I thought I should know. But I suppose you're right…I wanted to replace that door anyway. And he is old enough that he should start handling his problems on his own…" Kakashi trailed off, the one eye not covered by bangs clearly showed his amusement at the whole matter, though a voice at the back of his head was telling him there was something else besides this loud kid that was off.

"You're the bastard's dad?"

Kakashi gave a noncommittal shrug, still smiling. He and Sasuke had never liked trying to define their relationship, though for the most part, they had just stuck to the father/son story, as it generated the fewest questions. It was not necessarily something that they were comfortable with, nor was it accurate, but it was an easy explanation for a situation that was anything but.

Sasuke remembered his actual father, and was did not like acting as if he never existed, while Kakashi on the other hand was not big on thinking about the responsibilities he would have to endure if he was actually a father, not just acting as a guardian, no matter how paternal he felt at times…especially as he had entered into this strange relationship on a whim as a favor to an old friend.

When Obito had asked him to look after the boy, he should have just punched the strangely somber idiot in the face and walked away. Or so he thought on the days that were particularly bad. He was not equipped, not trained in the raising of a child—and especially not one as complicated as Sasuke. But somehow, the two had made it work through the years, and they had both somehow survived.

But despite that, referring to Uchiha Sasuke as his son was…unsettlingto Kakashi.

The blond kid had grown silent at that acknowledgement and studied the tall man in front of him. He didn't look like the black haired teen, but he supposed he could have looked like his mom or something. God knows he was a mini-copy of his father and took little of his appearance from his mother's bright red hair and pale skin. Plus, this guy was a jerk…just like his kid.

"Well, some manners that you taught him…" Naruto grumbled crossing his arms, "I've been trying to get him to open the door for like twenty minutes so I can give him his stupid ring that I found in the locker room after practice, which is weird cause he like never takes it off, though I guess coach did yell at him about it last week since it almost took a chunk out of Kiba's face when we were scrimmaging…" he trailed off, remembering how irritated and outright offended his black haired teammate had been when Asuma-sensei had told him to lose the ring during practice from then on.

Lost in his inner musings, Naruto had failed to notice how quickly Kakashi had grown tense at the mentioning of the ring. Sasuke always, _always _had it with him or on him in some way: it was the last thing he had, the last thing he _could _have from his older brother. He had made a promise to Itachi that he would take care of the large silver ring, no matter what, and Uchiha's never went back on their word. Ever.

Also, it was troubling that after twenty minutes his charge had not opened the door to his loud friend. Sasuke only had limited patience when it came to other's interrupting his treasured peace and quiet, and twenty minutes was far beyond what he would normally have tolerated. If anything, the teen should have come stomping up to the door and thrown it open in the blond's face, angrily demanding to know what the hell he wanted ten minutes ago.

That coupled with the ring and his own feelings of unease made Kakashi realize just how quickly his day had gone down hill. Something was wrong, something was really, really in a terribly bad way _wrong_, and he had yet to even see the youngest Uchiha this evening.

Something about that thought, more than anything else, had prodded him into quickly retrieving the precious ring from the teen, and then shooing said teen away with promises that he would make sure his son knew exactly who had brought it back and that he was damn lucky that it hadn't just been pawned or something.

The sun had been setting as he had been leaving work, and now it was completely dark on the quiet residential street as the silver-haired man finally unlocked his front door and haphazardly discarded the tie that had been hanging loosely around his neck the moment he had been out of Sasuke's line of sight—and out of range for commentary about his sloppy appearance—that morning.

Sasuke was not on the couch in the living room, though the light was indeed on. He called the boys name, expecting at the very least some kind of grunt in response, as Uchiha's in general were not big on conversation, save for the genetic fluke known as Obito.

Kakashi checked the bathroom and kitchen next, assuming the boy would be near the lighted room, but those too was empty, but with the ceiling lights shining brightly. Actually, now that he thought about it, every light on the bottom floor of their house was on, casting a soft golden glow around the rooms that even now, despite how long they had been here, barely looked lived in, as they both understood the need to be able to travel as quickly and with as little baggage as possible.

After walking through all of the downstairs rooms, he returned to the central living room and called out the boy's name again, standing perfectly still, waiting for the slightest sound to give away any acknowledgment of his presence. As he waited a minute, and then another, and then another he couldn't help but notice that his worry and unease was growing exponentially, his right hand clenched tightly around the large silver ring he had seen day after day, year after year on those too bony fingers or on a chain around that skinny neck, ever since he had become Sasuke's guardian, literally and legally.

When he found Sasuke a few minutes later, he couldn't help but bitterly think he had absolutely failed at both.

He was in the upstairs hallway, lying on his side on the ground, with a vibrant splash of crimson smudged against the off-white wall, marking the path of his descent, while a darker red soaked into the tan carpet. The teen's clothes were shredded and he was covered in wounds big and small, showing that he had fought, damnit, even if he hadn't won, he had at least fucking _tried_. And the small splatters of blood leading out of Sasuke's room towards where his crumpled form now lay near the stairs proved that some of his attempts at escape had worked before his attacker caught up with him.

Kakashi took in these details in seconds that felt like hours, his years of military training quickly forming scenarios in his mind, even as his body lurched jerkily forward, falling to his knees and carefully rolling Sasuke onto his back, praying to a god he only believed in at moments like these that that the Uchiha hadn't finally died from one of these horrible, violent encounters that they never seemed able to escape entirely from. But no, no there was a pulse and shallow, barely there breaths, and even as he frantically dialed for an ambulance with one hand, the other—still unconsciously clenched around the ring that originally belonged to Uchiha Itachi—pressed a chunk of his own shirt down hard over the gaping wound just under Sasuke's Adam's apple, trying to slow the blood flow that was already growing sluggish, as so much blood had already left the small, pale body.

It couldn't end like this…it just couldn't.

And now, as he watches the lights of the ambulance carrying his foster son fade away, Kakashi finds himself unable to do anything. He does not respond to the questions of the police who stand around him. He does not move, barely even breathes. And in one bloody hand, he still holds tightly to a ring he had never before been allowed to so much as touch.

Because Sasuke is frail, and broken, and still so damned stubborn. Because to him, Itachi will always take precedent over anything else, no matter what the older Uchiha had done, no matter how long he may or may not have been dead. Kakashi wondered idly if it would have been better if the brothers had been kept together…it wasn't like they could be doing much worse than Sasuke was by himself. Oh, and look, it was Nara Shikaku, the governmental handler assigned to Sasuke's situation, climbing out of that car and headed this way…

"Kakashi," the scarred man's gruff voice cuts through the voices of the police surrounding him, drawing the attention of all the people present. He makes a subtle gesture, tilting his head to one side, a sign Kakashi had long ago learned to mean that the other man expected to be followed. So Kakashi did what he was ordered to, leaving behind the irritated mummers of the local cops, angry that the Feds felt the need to step in on their case.

Shikaku knows by now it's useless to talk to Kakashi when he's in this state, when Sasuke is in danger. So the car is silent as the two drive to the hospital, unknowingly following the same route as the ambulance that had left minutes before. He also knows the steps that now must be taken, the paperwork that eventually needs to be filed, and the local media controls that must be put in place to hide the presence of the youngest Uchiha and his guardian.

Because the man who had paid Sasuke a visit tonight was not the only one looking for them.

But then again, this was all assuming that Sasuke would still be breathing in the morning, otherwise, it would all be pointless and far more trouble than it was worth. And based on the amount of blood covering the silver-haired man and the particular state of shock he seemed to be in, Shikaku had begun to doubt that he would spend the next day filling out forms.

And as he sat silently watching Kakashi pace restlessly—so unlike his usual laidback demeanor—outside of the ER operating room, he couldn't help but wonder about the giant mess the Uchiha had landed themselves in and if the clan really could afford to lose one more of it's number. But seeing Kakashi carefully put that distinctive red and silver ring on a too thin finger hours later made him come to realize that the Uchiha had already paid far more for this than they ever could have hoped to afford.

O0O0O0O

**Ending Note**: My original intention was to let this end after the first 600 words or so…and then I decided to bring in the flashback and Naruto and…gha. The fic kinda just exploded on me…and totally distracted me from writing a paper for a class when I started it. Not sure about the ending, but for now, that's what it's gonna be. It may be subject to revision in the future, but in any case finishing this let me put off writing a second paper as well.

...And yay for having an excuse to have Shikaku pop up.

Either way, some hard core angst, something I haven't done in a while. So let me know what you think.


End file.
